We Need To Talk
by Elbly
Summary: Set after Dead Reckoning - Eric pays Sookie a visit. Sookie POV. M for cussing.


**A/N – a short oneshot inspired by Dead Reconing. **

**Beta'd by Suki59 – who kindly picked out my crazy British-isms and inability to use a comma. **

**Dedicated to Peppermintyrose for her amazing interpretation of the books, and Thyra10 – because I know how much she likes to talk :oD**

=v==v=

We need to talk

=v==v=

I opened the front door.

"We need to talk."

It wasn't the first time I'd heard these words, and of all the sentences he could bark at me, it wasn't one of the ones I had up there with "your life is your own" and "I respect you," but hey, I've heard worse. It was the _way_he said it as he pushed past me, failing to look me in the eye, or even notice that I had a fork in my hand, and made his way into my living room while my dinner continued to get cold on the kitchen table.

I quickly scanned the drive and woods, before closing the door and slowly following Eric.

"About?" I asked, as I stood in the doorway of the living room, watching him anxiously play with his cell. He was seated on my couch, his elbows resting on his knees, a frown perched on his forehead like an angry vulture feasting on the carcass of the once easygoing vampire I had known. _Where __was __he __now? _I asked myself. I knew damn well where he was. He was buried deep inside this troubled creature I was tied to.

"We need to annul our marriage," he said. His gaze did not move from his phone, which he continued to turn over in his hands.

I'd been waiting for this for awhile. "That's not so much of a 'talk' as an instruction. Were you planning on asking my opinion?" I asked, not wanting to give up without a fight. Ever since Freyda, and his betrothal to the Oklahoma queen had been mentioned, the idea of what we would do about it had been running through my mind.

The bond had gone, and I was glad of it, because the look on his face spoke harsh words of extreme anger, frustration, annoyance and confusion. I felt enough of that on my own, without having to nanny his feelings too.

"I can't get out of it. The deal has been done, agreements made. This is beyond me." Eric snapped. He was giving in to something that didn't need to happen; his resignation was really starting to make me pissed.

"Can't? Or won't?" I asked, in as measured and calm a tone as I could manage. I was poking the angry bear, and I didn't want my head to be ripped off.

Eric shot me a bitter look. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. The words he said did not match the look – the look said "challenge me if you dare." Well I dared.

"Why does she want you? Have you even thought about that?" I asked. I was sure he had, but I wasn't sure he had the answers.

"Why would she not?" came his proud and defiant response. "I am strong, I am old, I am beautiful."

I choked back a laugh. "You're also full of bullshit, Eric Northman. Fine. We'll talk. But first I'm going to finish my dinner. There's blood in the fridge if you want it."

Returning to the kitchen table, I dug into the pie that was now somewhat colder than I would have liked, though thankfully not as cold as my dead husband, who waited a few minutes to show me that his hunger for blood had nothing to do with my absence from his company before stomping in. His movements were calculated to contain just enough force to say "I'm here goddamnit!" but not aggressive enough to warrant chastisement.

I smiled inwardly to myself at our discomfort. _This __must __be __what __a __real __marriage __feels __like,_ I thought. _No __bloody __battles, __no __torture, __no __plotting, __no __takeovers__ – __just __uncomfortable __silence __at __the __dinner __table._The pie would not last forever; sooner or later I would have to speak.

Over the top of his bottle, Eric's glare tried to pry from me the thoughts which were now mine and mine alone and the scared child residing in this thousand year old vampire became ever more evident.

The streaks of gravy on my plate paid testament to the dinner that once sat there, and to the talk that was coming up. I sighed, resigning myself to the sticky mess I was about to deal with, walked over to the sink and washed away the remains of my dinner.

Eric walked over and rinsed his bottle. "Well?" he asked.

"I can hide you, if you wish. We can find you a place where no one will look for you, keep it guarded, keep you free from Freyda." This was not a practical offer, but it was my opening gambit which was distinctly worse than the best course of action, which was also something I knew he would object to. I've been told it's always best to give the worst option first, so the unpalatable reality becomes much easier to swallow. This seemed like a real good time to put that theory to the test.

"So my freedom would be captivity? Guards can be bribed, safe houses burnt to the ground while I lie helplessly dead. I would never do this to you, so why do you suggest it for me?" Eric asked. He was not so angry now, but he was incredulous.

"Fine. You think Freyda wants you because you're strong? There are stronger vampires, with greater cunning – oh don't look pained, you know it's true. Most of you are beautiful, so it's not that. You're old, but age is only a prize for the owner of the years. No, I think what Freyda wants is my disability. I think she's put all her chips on me following you like an obedient puppy. Tell her I broke the bond, tell her you do not control me and she'll drop her claim."

Again, Eric's eyes tried to discover what the severed bond could no longer tell him. "Does this mean you want to remain my wife?"

As I sighed, my shoulders dropped a little. I took his hand in mine and stroked it. His skin was cold and smooth to the touch, perfect in spite of his years; mine, wrinkled and soapy from the dishwater, was starting to show a little age.

"I'll tell you what I don't want, Eric. I don't want a relationship that you won't fight for. This is a marriage you recognize, one you instigated, one you can dissolve if you want. Decide what you want, but remember this – if you go to Oklahoma, I'll be staying here."

No more words were spoken; they were not needed. We both understood what had to be done, but only he knew if he could do it.

The mesh door creaked then slammed as he left through the back porch. I showered and changed for work.

Life had to carry on.

=v==v=


End file.
